i stand there and knock,
i forever knock at the door,
the empty lifeless door,
the door that separates my loneliness from companionship,
i forever wait,
i wait until the door opens,
i wait until i see the beautiful face ushers me in,
my life is in darkness,
i see light on the other side,
but i never stand in it,
i never see the beautiful face,
all i see is the door and the darkness,
so i am waiting and knocking forevermore.

By [Man In The Box]
For [Your Favorite Stranger]

*feels sad, but cannot open the emotional door*

Hurrying his ethereal body past, and sometimes through the humans around him, Tammi rushed to the abandoned chapel that had been his home since he could remember. His Keeper had smiled when they had found the place, announcing it the perfect place for the younglings and himself. But Tammi wasn’t thinking about that now, his mind was a terrified jumble of images: of his best friend, Kerri; of the man with the loud voice; of Kerri screaming, and then disappearing with a poof. None of the humans saw him, though the ones he passed through experienced a sort of chill, which they attributed to the fall night air.
When he got to the chapel, Tammi went right through the door, and ran promptly into his Keeper. After rebounding off the larger spirit, Tammi rushed into his story, in an amazed and panicked voice:
“Me and Kerri, we were doin’ what we usually do, uh, that is, hangin’ around the teenagers in the arcades an’ stuff, lookin’ for a ride. So Kerri finds this, uh, this kid, and he tells me he’s found his ride. The kid has a buddy, so I take him for my ride, and we go. Just like we always do. We didn’t think there was anything special about these kids, they were just our rides, ya know?”
Tammi trailed off and looked at the Keeper, who nodded at him, and gestured for him to continue. By then, other younglings had gathered around, and were listening to Tammi. Tammi continued.
“So me and Kerri, we’re ridin’ just like we always do, nothin’s different really, except that there’s different kids every day, you know. The kids go home, right, and that’s when things start getting weird. The parents are freaking out for some reason, and I think now that these were some good kids, and the parents weren’t used to them cussin’, and bein’ rebellious. Whatever it was, they took the kids, and us, because we thought it was pretty funny to see the way those parents were flipping out, to another chapel, like this one, but not rundown. When we went inside, I got a weird feeling, and I stopped ridin’. I told Kerri that he should too, but he laughed and said he was havin’ too much fun. They were practically dragging the kids to this office inside the chapel, and I followed along, tryin’ to get Kerri to come with me, and all the while this feeling I have is getting stronger. When they got inside the office, there was this tall man, in a casual suit, sittin’ behind a desk. The weird feeling was coming from him, and it was really strong. I tried tearin’ Kerri off the kid, but he wouldn’t come, he shoved me away. The man stood up and put his hands on the boys’ heads. It shames me to say, I backed up, I moved back away from the man and the boys. Then Kerri started gettin’ scared, but the man was talking now, with his eyes closed and his hands still on the boys’ heads, and Kerri gave me one terrified look, and poof. He was gone.”
Tammi was hunched forward now, tears in his eyes, and a few of his comrades came forward to pat him on the back, tell him it was ok. Kerri was a nice spirit, most of the younglings liked him, even if he did have a certain knack for getting into trouble. But the Keeper wasn’t through yet.
“What was the man saying, Tammeryll? Do you remember?”
Tammi looked up through watery eyes. “Uh yeah, he was sayin’ stuff like, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit” and tellin’ Kerri to go away, go back where he belonged, like he could see him or something.” Tammi cocked his head in a confused manner. “What on earth did he mean?”
The Keeper put his hand on his chin, then sighed as if he had decided something. Ignoring Tammi’s question, he boomed out “Are all the younglings here?” He looked around at the nodding heads, and satisfied that all were accounted for, he started speaking.
“First off, the man Tammeryll speaks of is a priest. You all remember priests from the stories I tell you. They worship God, who you also know from the stories. What the priest did is called exorcism.” He paused for a moment here, letting all the younglings murmur, and wonder among themselves what exorcism was. Then he continued: “I’m sure you all know what demons are, I’ve told you numerous stories about demons.” The younglings nodded, wondering where this talk was leading. “Well, exorcism is the act of sending a...how did you say it Tammeryll? “Riding”? Exorcism is the act of sending a riding demon to the Abyss.” The younglings gasped. They had heard about the Abyss in the stories, and they knew it was a horrible place.
Tammi was astonished. “So Kerri was a demon? My best friend was a demon? That’s crazy, I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes!” All the younglings agreed, and started talking among themselves, sharing memories of Kerri.
The Keeper wasn’t finished though. “Quiet, younglings.” There was silence. “You’re missing the picture here. Kerrimana was no different from any of you. Every single one of you are demons. I myself am a demon, though far older.” He was finished now, and stood there with his arms crossed, waiting for the questions he knew would come.
Tammi was the first to break the shocked silence. “But in all your stories, the demons are bad, they’re the ones that fight against the angels and God.” Tammi had always loved the stories with the angels, the mighty warriors of God, with bright, sharp swords, and powerful white wings.
The Keeper nodded, and said “Yes, we are the evil ones, we fight against the angels for our Master while they fight for God. But we have been given power on earth, we can play with the humans, we can do whatever we want with them, unless the angels step in. Then we fight.” He had a shine in his eyes, and looked far away, remembering some battles. Then he snapped back. “We rarely get orders, while the angels get nothing but. Our duty is simple: play with the humans, toy with them, irritate them. And if an angel tries to stop you, gather your brothers and fight.”
The question “But what about the priest, and the ... exorcism stuff?” brought a loud chorus of “Yeah!”s. The Keeper made a face as if the answer was obvious, but answered the question anyway.
“Simply get out of the person before you even reach the building. Whenever you feel that feeling, like Tammeryll felt, leave. Or you’ll go poof, like Kerrimana. Now, I have raised you on stories of us, and our enemies so that you would know what to do, so that you would know how to play the game. You are all young, as far as demons go, only 100 years, which is really just 17 or 16 in human years. You have much still to learn, but I have trained you to fight, and do your jobs well. Do you accept you mission?”
This was greeted by almost unanimous approval. The Keeper knew that one voice was missing, and asked, “Which of you does not accept your mission?” He cut his eyes fiercely at the younglings, and they stepped back, leaving Tammi standing rather alone and small looking. The Keeper lifted an eyebrow. “Tammeryll. You showed true promise in all your training. Do you really mean to throw it all away?”
Tammi looked down, clutching his hands behind his back. Then he looked up and straightened himself. “I don’t want to be evil. I will be good, and follow the God the angels and the priest follow.”
The Keeper’s face became cold and heartless. “No one will accept you now, Tammeryll. If you hope to join the angels, you will be sadly disappointed. And your own kind will not accept you. Humans will fear and loathe you. And God?” He sneered. “God won’t accept you.” The door swung open. “Get out. And if I ever see you around here, I’ll treat you as I would an angel, and send your own brothers after you.”
Tammi stepped toward the door, then turned to look at his one-time brothers. Some wouldn’t meet his gaze, and the ones who did simply gave him a blank gaze. He turned and stepped out of the door. He had made it down the steps before he felt any difference. He lifted a hand and nearly fainted in shock. He couldn’t see through himself! He felt his head. His horns were there! He looked down at himself. He had a physical body, like a human, but it didn’t look exactly like a human body. He knew he had to find clothes, and then get out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tammi sighed as he came back from his memories. It had been barely a month since he’d left the chapel, and life had been hard. He remembered that first night.
He’d been lucky to find an abandoned alley to hide in until he saw a homeless man come staggering by. His sense of smell had not left him, nor his keen night vision, for that he had thanked the God of the angels. He was able to tell that the man was drunk, and wouldn’t remember much from the night. With the darkness to hide him, he had jumped the man and dragged him into the alley quite unconscious. After going into him for a split second to be sure he was alright, Tammi stole the clothes he needed: a long, but very dirty trenchcoat, and a ragged hat. The pants and shirt would not have fit over his irregularly shaped body.
After putting on his nearly acquired clothing, he’d left the man there, against the wall, and went to find another empty alley, begging forgiveness from God and hoping that angels wouldn’t come to attack him for his sin.
Tammi shook his head at his naive belief that angels were all-knowing and attacked every evil-doer. He had learned since then that they didn’t. He still had the ability to see and communicate with spirits, and though he had seen many demons (which he had avoided), he hadn’t seen any angels, even at the rampant crime scenes that plagued the city.
His stomach grumbled loudly, and Tammi regretted again that he couldn’t get rid of his horns and get a job.

copyright of J. K. Maxwell

And that is the first part of the second book in my ongoing series. The first one, Burning Black, isn't done yet, but this one popped into my head. I will make a wiki for them, if I get enough people who like it. I'll also put Burning Black in here as a teaser when I get it onto this computer. Enjoy, people!
   -[Your Favorite Stranger]

Who wants a fairy-tale ending?
They're not as great as they seem.
For a prince, you have to wait forever,
An evil villain is good enough for me.
I'll leave the princes for all those princesses,
The knights for maids in distress.
Simply give me the dastardly villain --
Maybe then I'd be impressed.
Princes are far too predictable,
And knights turn out to be knaves,
What I want is something different,
Maybe a pirating life on the waves!
I don't want a man in bright colors,
He can't wear more makeup than me.
I want a man to surprise me,
Not ride around on a steed.
Kidnap me in the night through a window,
Cause slaying the dragon's so old.
Don't invite me for tea and some biscuits,
Take me out on a fight -- now that's bold!
Don't take me dancing at a ball
(Unless blood is the main course),
Don't baby me, or be too polite:
Let me see darkness; we can both use force.
Give me passion and danger!
Give me blood and gore!
But you have been warned:
I'm no man's whore.
It won't be easy,
You may have to fight.
Oh, and be careful!
Cause this chica bites.
You can have your pretty sunsets,
I don't need that flowing skirt.
Just give me a night with a full moon,
I'll slip on some pants and a shirt.
Who wants a fairy-tale ending?
They're not all they're cracked out to be.
I'm just fine as the bad guy's lover,
Cause kickin' good-girl butt is for me!

No Sleeping Beauty
By [Your Favorite Stranger]

The introspectiveness that always follows reading one of Anne Rice’s Vampire novels. The absurd eloquence that my thoughts and writing always seem to have. I can tell myself that it’s all in my head (and it very well may be), but I don’t believe myself. Perhaps it’s the eloquence of the books, maybe the eloquent idea of the vampires themselves. Or perhaps it’s all a figment of my highly over-active imagination. Whatever it is, I do feel very introspective and thoughtful. I do feel like purchasing a whole wardrobe of clothes like Lestat’s, all trimmed out with lace, and, in all honesty, rather eccentric. I do feel a nudging desire to see New Orleans, go to the French Quarter, visit around after dark (which is a foolish thing to do regardless of vampires), look for Lestat, and maybe even Quinn and Mona. Why I would want to see Lestat is the question that I ask myself most, not in trying to take away the desire, but to find out what I would ask him, what I would say to him if I did happen upon him. I have, so far, come to the conclusion that I would ask him to impart to me some of the knowledge he has gained over his many years. It’s really a pretty presumptuous request, and I know that the chances of it actually being honored are laughably small, but it’s still what I’d ask. I have no wish at all to be immortal, other than to gain more knowledge and strength. I wouldn’t be able to do what I feel I am called to do. And living solely for the purpose of gaining knowledge isn’t living for much, in my opinion, especially when you aren’t technically “living” at all. I want to do something with that knowledge. I have a small hope that bringing such a request to him would appeal to Lestat’s immense, yet understandable, vanity. But why do I ramble on about this sort of thing when the Vampire Chronicles, and Lestat, and Mona, and Quinn are all fiction? Am I obsessive? Am I mad? It’s possible. I sort of like to think that a very microscopic part deep inside me knows it’s fiction. I sort of like to think that, just to keep the “mature” side of me happy. But it seems so real to me, and I desperately need something dark, and different, and magical, and impossible to believe in, so I let myself toy with these notions. As I have said before, dreams keep me alive. When I run out of dreams to believe in, what will happen to me?

Do you know the feeling you have when there is no space between you and heaven, between you and God? I know he’s always there, but when you feel that close to him, it’s just different, somehow. It’s like...the hug you always needed, but never got, it’s like all your good memories in one breath, like all your dreams can come true, like you could fly. Well, really, it’s undescribable, but I always attempt to describe the undescribable. I feel like I’m submerged in a warm, solid, yet liquid something, and I belong there like I don’t belong anywhere else. It makes me feel...perfect. If that’s a sin, I’ll repent later, because that feeling is not something I feel often. Normally, I feel like the least of God’s children (not like there is such a thing, but still), like a sinner (which I am), like a disobedient kid (which I also am, often). But when God’s around, it’s like I see me like he sees me, and that is absolutely amazing to me.

Someone save me. Please. I don’t care who or what you are, or how you do it, just save me from this. Don’t hurt me emotionally. Don’t lie to me. Don’t leave me alone. And don’t ever say you love me.

yes because it would be cool to see the new modern inventions and how life has progressed for the immortals that are too stupid to come up with the stuff before. you could also do anything.

--C. aka [Man In The Box]

Would you believe me if I said I love you?

"When the stars go blue"

Hmmh, well what do you know. I knew that Elftown had all shapes and sizes, but I've finally met the vampire Armand. Is that hot or what? I checked to see if Lestat was here too, but nope, only a little poser brat without barely a house. Armand misses his master, Marius, I'm fairly sure. I would too. Marius was awesome. Or is. I think he's still alive. Oo, bad pun. I think he's still around, that's better.

Wanna go back, want to do it again,
All the stuff that messed me up,
That felt so good,
That filled my cup.
Wanna go back and play with my friends,
The friends who held me,
Who cut my wrists,
Who set me free.

You were my sick obsession,
You were my dirty deed,
You were the drugs that got me high,
And right now, you’re what I need.

Wanna go back and poise my blade,
That whispered love into my skin,
That stroked my veins,
That helped me win.
Wanna go back and take a sip
Of the wickedly forbidden drink,
That made me laugh,
That didn’t let me think.

You were my dark secret,
You were my poison kiss,
You were my black heart,
And right now, you’re what I miss.

Oh, you were my sick obsession,
You were my dirty deed,
You were the drugs that got me high,
And right now, you’re what I need.

Dirty Deeds and Sick Obsessions
By [Your Favorite Stranger]

“In the worst storm,
In the coldest rain,
When you can’t hold on,
I’ll be back again.”
The last thing you said
Before you walked away.
All I can think
Is that today’s the day.
The storm is bad,
The rain is cold,
I’ve fallen down,
But you’re not here to hold.
You aren’t here
When I need you most:
I’ve no will to stay,
I’ll give up the ghost.
A tear falls down,
Mingles with rain.
You let me down,
Didn’t stop my pain.
I close my eyes,
I know I’ve lost,
I hoped to see you,
No matter the cost.
I start to leave,
Then hear my name.
Dare I hope
It’s not a game?
Open my eyes,
And I can live:
You are here,
Your help to give.
You bend down close,
Say, “I’m here to save”.
I’ll always remember
The help you gave:
The hand from your coat
Holds the “problem solver”;
I died with a shot
From your heart-shaped revolver.

Heart-shaped Revolver
By [Your Favorite Stranger]

I always think I'm over you,
And that's when it hits me the hardest,
Because I'm not over you.
It still hurts like hell
When I hear a song,
When I have a dream,
When I'm somewhere I was with you.
Sometimes, I remember the way you smell,
Or I hear you say "Te amo",
Or I see your eyes say you love me.
Do you know how hard it is
To know I could talk to you anytime I want?
Just pick up a phone,
Type your email address.
But that it won't ever be the same?
I can't ever have you again,
Never have you hold me,
Never have you say you love me,
Never have you protect me.
It hurts so bad sometimes
I want to die.
Just make it stop, stop, stop!
But I'll never have closure.

*wince* bad, bad, bad poetry. Raw emotion, nothing more, dismiss it.

Must find and purchase all the anime comics I've been reading. It's all [Cliché]'s fault that I'm hooked...oh well, I just have to buy the things!! Most of the online ones have at least volume one out in stores, and I do so want them!!